


Distrust Containment

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Paranoia, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: Paranoia.It seeps into his veins like poison, an inevitable chill that surfaces when he’s all alone. A chill that has his fingers flying over pages and pages trying to find one sure way to end it all, tracing portraits of his – his what? His friends? He’d laugh if he could, but he’s cold, cold, cold and laughter is only fun when there’s somebody to hear it because really, he hates the sound of his own laugh otherwise.Buuut that’s a lie, too! Since he’s really quite charming, you know!





	Distrust Containment

**Author's Note:**

> a look into Ouma's time alone in his room, post-ch4/pre-ch5

Paranoia.

It seeps into his veins like poison, an inevitable chill that surfaces when he’s all alone. A chill that has his fingers flying over pages and pages trying to find one sure way to end it all, tracing portraits of his – his what? His friends? He’d laugh if he could, but he’s cold, cold, cold and laughter is only fun when there’s somebody to hear it because really, he hates the sound of his own laugh otherwise.

Buuut that’s a lie, too! Since he’s really quite charming, you know!

Paranoia.

The magnets on the whiteboard follow his thoughts as he pushes the portraits around, trying to visualize how to best rearrange them with all the new information he has on hand.

With all the people who are left, who can be trusted? What can be trusted? Can anything really be trusted anymore?

Paranoia.

Move Harukawa to the right, Shirogane to the right, Saihara – suspicious? Trustworthy? He hesitates, _no, nobody is trustworthy_ , and then places him to the right also. Yumeno, right, Momota right as well, and Kiibo, right.

Right, right, right. He can’t trust anyone. He can’t trust a single person here.

Fear.

Look at what he did.

He shoves Gokuhara to the left. He’s gone. Iruma, left. Gone, gone, gone.

Fear.

Paranoia.

He shoves Shinguuji, Chabashira and Yonaga to the left. Gone. Toujou and Hoshi. Gone. Akamatsu and Amami. Gone.

His eyes flicker to the wax effigy of Amami still hanging in his room. Suspicious? Trustworthy?

“He’s dead, Kokichi.” He growls at himself, forcing his gaze away. His fists clench by his sides. “Why can’t you even trust a dead person?”

_But what if he isn’t? What if he’s alive? What if he’s behind all of this?_

Paranoia.

_What if he faked it? What if this is all fake?_

_What if everything you thought you knew was a lie?_

Paranoia.

_What if DICE is dead?_

_What if you’re too late? What if — what if the people here had killed them off one by one, in killing games just like this?_

Paranoia.

_What if you’re the last one standing and everyone is laughing at how helpless you are?_

Paranoia.

_Why can’t you remember —_

_The only people who had ever cared about you—_

_The only people in the world you had ever cared about —_

_The only –_

_People you loved –_

_Why can’t you even remember their names?_

It claws at his peripheral, trying to pull him down.

_What if they’re not real?_

_What if there’s really nobody out there?_

_What if you’re so pathetic that you had to make people up because it’s not like anyone will actually like you, let alone love you?_

He glances at the motive video, settled innocently on his bedspread.

Countless times. He had watched it countless times, yearning for the warmth of the closest thing to family he’s ever had.

Yet the doubt lingers.

_What if they don’t exist — or what if they did, but don’t love you anymore?_

_After what you did. After knowing what you’re capable of._

_What if you were the one who drove them away?_

On and on, the thoughts keep spiralling.

_What if you’re the one who got them hurt?_

_What if they died for you?_

_Because of you?_

Dragging him deeper and deeper, lower and lower.

_Just give up already!_

The paranoia makes his blood run cold. It wants to take over. It wants control. It wants him to surrender, and he won’t, because he’s never done what anyone has wanted him to do. But it’s not an anyone, and even if it’s cold, at least it hasn’t left him.

_You’ve done enough!_

He knows.

_It’s too late for anybody to change their mind!_

He knows this very well.

_They’ll hate you and they’ll hate you forever! Until you die!_

This, he knows and accepts.

_Everybody hates you! Isn’t that what you wanted?_

He’s shouldering a burden that’s heavy and ugly and he’s already gone too far.

He can’t stop now.

_Just stay here, stay put, stay quiet and don’t do anything — nobody wants you to, anyway._

_They don’t want you around._

_Stop trying, it’s only going to get you killed._

_You can’t win the game if you’re dead._

But if he doesn’t try, then he will regret it. He will be forced to stop and think about how terrible everything has gotten and how he’s done some terrible terrible things he can’t take back and how he’s so alone, oh god, he’s so alone —

He isn’t, though.

He gazes up at his whiteboard. He still has his friends, of course! There’s lovely Saihara, hilarious Harukawa (honestly, death threats are _so_ in right now), the oh-so-heroic Momota, boring airheaded Shirogane, stupid dimwitted Yumeno, gullible and weird, weird Kiibo.

His, ha, friends. _Friends._ Duh.

He laughs this time, falling backwards with his legs in the air.

They’re — they’re his friends, aren’t they? Isn’t that why he’s trying so damn hard to end this killing game, isn’t it for _them?_

Yeah, right.

It might paint him a nicer picture, but he’s not about to lie about liking them or anything, nosirree.

Nuh-uh, he doesn’t lie at all, ‘caaause honesty is the best policy!

That’s the truth! Cross his heart! Cross his fingers!

Though crossing both might mean that the truth was negated, right?

Ah. Whoops. Well. Doesn’t matter.

He wants to win this game.

That’s his goal, plain and simple. That has always been his goal.

He’s going to win. He’s going to end this. No matter what.

Though it’s true he could have won ages ago! There’s a shortcut to everything, a cheat code waiting to be made the moment the game begins.

He could have won.

He could have gotten out of here with an unsolvable murder. He could have killed them all.

But he didn’t, did he? And he wouldn’t, because taking a life is almost the worst thing somebody could possibly do and his friends would never, he would never, it’s probably the worst thing somebody could ever do —

The left side of the board stares back at him. Their eyes are so lifeless. So dead. They’re dead.

_Look at what you did! Look at what you did!_

Okay. He sits up. Then stands.

He doesn’t have friends.

He doesn’t.

Paranoia is his only friend. It’s cold, but so is he, and that’s what makes them friends.

It keeps him safe. It has so far. It won’t fail him.

It will be his best friend, no matter what. No matter what.

He likes that phrase. ‘No matter what’. It’s like a pinky promise for better things.

No. Matter. What.

‘Cause if anyone made a promise to him, he’d like it if it were a pinky promise, ‘cause legends say – “if you lie and break this finger-bound promise, you’ll lose your pinky and have to swallow! One! Thousand! Needles!” – and nobody would want to break a promise like that.

Not that, ha ha _ha_ , Ouma trusts anyone enough to make that kind of promise in the first place.

His hands tremble as he rakes his fingers over Saihara’s portrait. It’s not on purpose. His fingers just — his fingertips just landed there. That’s what he tells himself.

It’s not like Saihara would care either way.

“You’re alone,” Saihara had said, gaze admonishing. “And you always will be.”

“So what?” Ouma hisses, not quite understanding why his hand is dragging the detective’s portrait to the far right side of the board. He can’t stop himself even if he tries. “So what if I am? So what, so what, so what? So – _what!_ ”

He finally halts with Saihara’s picture in the top right corner and slams his palm against it.

“So what if I’m destined to be alone? Maybe that’s what I want,” he knocks his forehead against the hard white surface. “As if you’d know anything about me, anyway.”

If this were a spectrum, this would make Saihara the least trustworthy of them all, but it isn’t, because Ouma doesn’t care about the order of his board.

Order is boring. Overrated. A big old snooze. Snore.

This corner is going to be something else entirely. He drags his hand down and uncaps his marker, pulling away from the board with a sigh. He considers drawing a moustache on Saihara’s face but decides it isn’t worth it.

Saihara is difficult to taint, but _god_ , he wishes he wasn’t.

He wishes Saihara was a bad person. So he could. Just hate him. Even if he’s the only one.

He wants someone to blame for all of this, and he wants it to be someone he remotely enjoys, if only to prove himself right. That nobody is trustworthy and nobody is worth it.

It’s – true –

He wishes that good people and bad people were easy to differentiate, so that he’d know how to find safety in someone else.

(He imagined DICE was the safest he’s been, but it’s so hard to believe that anyone could feel so safe that he’s started to really think he’s conjured it all up in his head.)

Ouma has never found anybody _safe._

(It’s so hard to believe it that maybe he doesn’t believe it anymore. Even if he knows it would hurt them if they knew.)

Maybe that’s the crux of it.

(Even if it hurts him to be this way, he will not change. He cannot change.)

“I think that… you’re probably not the ringleader, Saihara-chan. Not the mastermind. Probably. I guess. S’pose it makes sense, anyway, unless you’re sicker than I thought.” He murmurs, peering in close. “Does that make you happy? To know that you’re just slightly better than everybody else?”

Saihara’s neutral gaze remains still. Ouma only feels a little weird for talking to it.

“Uh, _kidding_ , obviously.” His smile widens just a fraction. “It’s not like it means anything to me, anyway. You’re still super lame, just maybe not as lame as Momota-chan – oh, you know who Momota-chan is, right? After your little spat, who knows, really? Some friendship that was.”

Sarcasm. “Do you think someone who keeps preaching this and that, like ‘blah blah blah trust everybody, believe in your friends until the end’ knows that people are actually putting their lives on the line here? Who does he think he is? Total sellout, that guy.”

His face twists at the thought of Momota.

“Stupid Momota-chan.” He sighs dramatically. “And he makes you want to believe in him anyway… you all really are hopeless, huh?”

“Trust? Understanding? Even after everything that’s happened, you want to talk about trusting each other?” His grip around his marker tightens. “One of us is here to enjoy this, and that someone should be me. But it’s not, did you know that?” He smiles easily. “Of course you don’t! Because that’s a lie, and I couldn’t be happier to be here!”

Slipping, slipping, he can’t slip. He won’t slip.

“I like being here,” Ouma says matter-of-factly. “It’s a lot of fun, actually! I’m having the time of my life!”

So maybe he’s lying! ‘Cause he’s a liar! But some lies can be kind, can’t they?

Some lies can be beautiful.

“Yep, yep! I’ve really never had this much fun!”

And he’s heard that if you smile enough, happiness will always follow.

“I think you’re having fun too, Saihara-chan,” he tips his head back and forth, voice growing sing-song. “‘Cause you’re the very hero Momota-chan wants to be, aren’t you? Saving everybody in the class trials, always finding the right answer, even being able to convict your friends, wow! It’s like you’ve truly found your calling!”

“Ooh, maybe this is what you were destined to do! Maybe you’ve resigned yourself to it, or maybe you’re actually getting a real kick outta this! Wow. How terrible of you!” Tap, tap, tap. He taps on Saihara’s portrait. He wishes so badly he was a bad person. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? I told you it would.”

He scribbles very quickly, very hastily – _trustworthy? –_ the question mark being the last of his hopes (ha, pathetic, yeah right, no way in hell) that he’d pin on Saihara if he had any hope left to give.

Saihara, Saihara, Saihara.

He just wants to hate him, just a little bit would be fine!

Saihara might understand. Saihara understood people, even when they didn’t understand themselves.

_But would it even matter?_

He’d never get close enough to tell.

(If he never gets close enough to care, then nobody will hurt him.)

Paranoia.

(But he knows it’s too late already, doesn’t he?)

Paranoia.

(He doesn’t want anyone else to die.)

Paranoia.

(Just kidding.)

Paranoia.

( _Duh_.)

Paranoia.

He gazes at his battle plans. His papers and his drawings. The ‘just in case’ box and the ‘just in case just in case’ box. And, nobody would have guessed it, but the ‘just in case just in case just in case’ box is somewhere in there too.

Y’know! Just in case! Obviously! There’s nothing wrong with being a lil prepared!

Paranoia.

He kicks the stack of papers down and laughs.

He laughs because of the incredulity of it all – how did Ouma Kokichi, the one everyone clearly wants dead, survive this long, anyway? How did Ouma Kokichi, unanimously hated, get this far in the game?

Paranoia, duh. He can’t trust anyone but paranoia! Paranoia is protecting him! Paranoia will help him win this damn game!

Paranoia, paranoia, paranoia!

PARANOIA IS THE ONLY STRATEGY TO WIN THIS GAME.

NO MATTER WHAT IT TAKES.

PARANOIA IS THE ONLY WAY.

PARANOIA ALONE.

TRUST NOTHING.

TRUST NOBODY.

IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO LIVE.

Ouma puts his pen down. Wipes his tears with his sleeve. Strides towards the door in his best big bad _villain_ impression, strong steps and swagger and confidence too solid to ever break.

‘Cause he’s got places to invade, people to distrust, and loads of plans just in case! So he’ll be just fine! Just fine, just fine!

Paranoia won’t betray him. No matter what.

He’s going to trust no-one with his life but himself.

That’s the truth, if nothing else.


End file.
